


In Sickness and in Health

by scrawly_times



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Huntress Viola, Sort Of, also known as Viola Is Gonna Kick Gehrman's Ass AU, and everyone's asses, but for now, she's just gonna hug her husband and cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawly_times/pseuds/scrawly_times
Summary: On her wedding day Viola swore she would love Gascoigne until death did they part.It would seem "Till death do us part" is for quitters.
Relationships: Gascoigne/Viola (Bloodborne)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this written up for absolute Ages and only just remembered i wanted to post it whoops
> 
> Mostly just a oneshot sort of thing, but i may have a couple more ideas for it,,,,

It was hard to navigate Yharnam, especially during night. During the Hunt it could be near impossible. 

But Viola was an old hand at this. While Bo and Madeline were tucked into the basement practicing their embroidery in silence, Viola took her little music box and stepped out into the night that her husband had not come back from. 

The Hunt was lasting too long, the moon hanging still and uneasily in the sky. 

Gascoigne usually returned several times when a Hunt stretched longer than normal. He would stop by if only to ensure their safety or to make sure they weren't running low on incense. But this Hunt, he had not returned. 

So it was Viola's duty to go search for him and ensure he was okay. To bring her husband home. 

The streets were as frightening as ever and she struggled to remain hidden. This Hunt was truly terrible, the beasts were out in numbers she'd never seen before. Viola was thankful she'd worn her warmest dress that was easiest to move in and sensible shoes. She had nothing heavy or clumsy enough to slow her down. The night was long, cold, and deadly. 

Viola found her husband fighting beasts and hunters by the dozens, an entire group surrounding him. From her spot hiding in an alleyway she could see him struggling to fight back. He was on his knees on the ground, snarling like an animal, hands flailing his axe out in an uncoordinated manner. The clearly blood drunk way he moved was keeping him from fighting the group intelligently but also kept him from being overwhelmed, too unpredictable. 

Gascoigne's back arched as one of them shot him with a pistol and a shout echoed from him. An inhuman, spine chilling roar echoed through the yard. 

"Oh Gascoigne-" Viola covered her mouth and hurried to pull her music box out and wind it up. She could help- if he could think properly, he could escape- 

Something slammed into her back and her entire chest was filled with sharp pain. 

Viola's vision blacked out and she came back to a screaming, crying noise. She was moving, some horrid feeling of being held up by her chest where her skin was hot and wet with something unidentifiable. 

She looked down. Blood, everywhere, turning her white collar a crimson to match her brooch. Four metal points going through her chest. 

The screaming was her. A gurgling, pained noise coming out of her throat without her control. 

"A beast!" A man's cracked voice said from behind her. Beast or hunter? Was there any difference, anymore? "I found it lurking-" 

A maddened, powerful roar that drowned out her screams. 

"Ga-" Blood poured over her lips and breathing hurt, speaking hurt, everything hurt. 

Viola fell, the weapon through her jarring everything. Her music box fell from her pocket and the casing cracked. Viola reached towards it, seeing her hand twitching shakily but not feeling like it was attached to her. She had to reach Gascoigne, calm him, remind him of his humanity, he would save her… 

Gascoigne? Her mouth moved but she was out of breath and no more would enter. The world was going gray and unfocused. 

A giant, beastial hand slammed in front of her face and she cried out. 

A roar above her. Shouting, screaming. 

Something very, very big stood above her. She could feel it crouched over her. Could feel the heat and the air bristling with tension around it. 

Gascoigne? She saw a tattered sleeve dangling in her line of sight. That was her husband's jacket, right? 

A giant hand scooped her up, a beastly cry echoing through the graveyard. Viola let out a choked gurgle, blood falling from her lips. 

The world was gray. Or maybe that was just the beast holding her..? A rumbling whine that made the whole world shake. 

Viola bled out and the last thing she heard was a cry of pure agony and rage.

* * *

"Well… you're not the usual type to end up here." 

Viola sat up with a gasp, hands flying to her chest and meeting her clean dress. No injury, no blood. 

She looked around wildly. A… a graveyard? Different than the one she’d just been in. With flowers and charming cobblestone paths. An old man sat in a wheelchair, watching her with a squint. 

"Where-? Gascoigne?!" Viola scrambled to her feet, fingers still grasping at her chest. Why didn't it hurt? Why was it supposed to be hurting..? 

"Please, Hunter, calm yourself." She whirled to the old man with her finger pointed at him. 

"No! Who are you? Why am I here? Where  _ is  _ here?!" Viola pulled the sticky, warm shirt away from her chest. Except it wasn't sticky or wet or soaked, it was perfectly clean. "What  _ happened?! WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!"  _ She screamed at the old man. 

She didn't know why she was so upset. She didn't know why she felt like her world was shattered, why she couldn't regain her composure. Why it felt like if she didn't have answers this very moment she was going to burst into hysteria. 

"Peace, Good Hunter, all shall come in time." A feminine voice behind her and a delicate hand placed itself on her shoulder. 

"No-!" Viola turned around and the fact that the speaker was a doll made her hesitate. "Tell me- tell me what happened! Right now! Or- or-" She didn't know what she'd do. 

"You have died, dear Hunter." Viola's world shattered. "But it is merely the beginning, for you. I do not know what becomes of your husband. But you may return to him-" 

The Doll didn't finish her sentence before Viola frantically grabbed at her and nodded. "Please- please he needs me, please-" 

She was dead. She had died, and there had been her own blood on her shirt, and her husband had turned into a feral beast over her cold, dead body. She had a burning, fiery need to return to him, to ensure the hunters had not killed him, to ensure he did not do things he would later regret. 

Because there _would_ _be_ a later, if she had to fight for it the whole way. 

"Merely go to the headstone, there, and it shall return you to the lantern." The Doll said to her plainly. The man spluttered indignantly. 

Viola turned to the grave the Doll pointed to and ran for it. She stopped right in front of it, swaying on her feet. She didn't know what to do- 

Her hand fell on the headstone and the world faded away.

* * *

Viola gasped as the world seemed to fade back in around her. 

She was back in the graveyard and there were bodies, everywhere. A sobbing, grunting sound caught her attention. She turned to see it as she remembered she had just  _ died here  _ perhaps she should be more cautious- 

Gascoigne. 

He was on two feet, his clothes shredded and torn around his body. His body was twisted and broken in the shape of some canine beast but he was still capable of standing. His axe was held in his hand as he slammed it into a corpse. He tore it out with another moan. 

Viola raised her hand worriedly, then held her breath and backed away. She checked her pockets frantically- then realized she had dropped her music box, when she died. She remembered reaching for it- 

"Who's there?" Gascoigne's voice was harsh and unnatural. A growl laced with sadness and fury. "Beasts, beasts all over the shop… you'll be one soon enough…" His voice was distant in a familiar yet worrying way. He had forgotten her, but she could fix this. She knew how to  _ fix  _ this. 

The spot she had come back to - with a curious little lantern - was not near the alleyway she had died. It was near directly in his path. Viola took a step back. A branch cracked under her foot and she flinched. 

A headstone near her exploded as bullets tore through it. 

Viola burst into a sprint, a sobbing cry leaving her without her control. 

"Run little beast!" That wasn't her husband's voice, wasn't his growling laugh that bordered on maniacal. Wasn't the clawed hands that kept him from firing with the ease she knew he had. Wasn't the stalking beast that laughed and stomped after her as if it was  _ playing  _ with her. "Run! It won't save you! I'll gut all of you! I'll kill every last one!" 

She dodged his shots and ran across the graveyard as fast as she could, avoiding his poor aim by ducking around trees and taller headstones. She clumsily tried to jump the little hedge and fell to her knees outside the alleyway. 

Viola saw the music box and shuddered, seeing a pool of drying blood around it. Her blood. The pitchfork that had skewered her lay motionless on the ground. She was frozen, staring. Knowing she had actually  _ died  _ here. Some part of her had thought it all just a horrible, horrible dream. 

The hedge splintered behind her and Viola screamed. Malicious chuckling came from right behind her. She scrambled on hands and knees to the music box and picked it up, frantically winding it- 

Large clawed hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, digging into her flesh. Viola cried out and reflexively grabbed the hands, dropping the box. It clattered to the stone street just as it began to play and the claws sank in. 

They froze, as she shuddered from pain. They released her and she fell to her knees clutching her sides. The music was broken, jarred, skipping some notes. 

Viola rolled to face the monster in her husband's skin, scooting away as fast as she could. Would it work? Was it enough? Was she going to die at her husband's hands? She shook and trembled in fear. 

Gascoigne fell to his knees, clutching his head. He wouldn't look up. His head stayed down as his hands knocked his hat off. 

"Viola-" He  _ sobbed. _ "Viola- no, no- she died- she  **died in my arms-** stop, no, she's  **dead!"** He snarled and roared. His claws sank into his scalp and rivulets of blood ran down the sides of his face. 

"Gascoigne!" Viola reached a hand out towards him, unsure but knowing she had to stop him from hurting himself. 

Gascoigne froze, a choked whine coming from him. His entire body shook and trembled with some force she couldn't imagine. 

"No… no…" Tears were making damp patches in the bandages around his eyes. 

"Gascoigne, please, you're hurting yourself." Viola pleaded. She swallowed nervously and inched closer. "Gascoigne, open your eyes, dear. It's me. I promise, it's me." 

"I can't… I can't anymore…" His mouth opened too wide as he lifted his head, his teeth twisted fangs. "I can't… you're not real, you can't be… real… Viola- my Viola-" Gascoigne sobbed again. One hand let go of his head and reached forwards clumsily. 

She took it. Against all caution and sense, she saw her husband rising with the broken melody of the music box. And her husband was  _ broken. _ Something strong and unbending in him had snapped. 

Viola inched forwards, holding his giant hand up to her chest. "My dear, it's me, Gascoigne. Feel my heart. Please, believe, it is me my love." She bent her neck down to press a kiss to the bloodied knuckle. It was large, far too big, covering her entire chest, but it was her husband's. "Can't you see me, my love?" 

Gascoigne made a strange breathing noise, seeming to scent with his nose and mouth both. His face trembled. The bandages weren't enough and were beginning to leak tears. He didn't respond, only trembling. 

Gascoigne had begun to lose his sight when his sanity had begun to slip. She had made her peace with both, resolving to do as any wife would and love and support him through sickness and in health. He practiced feeling her heartbeat, smelling her, holding her, knowing every inch of her. He claimed it was so he would never forget her even in his blindness.  _ She _ thought he was an incorrigible romantic. 

But she used it now, approaching slowly and lifting a hand up to the bandages. She… she had to see. 

He flinched when her hand touched his face. She shushed him gently. 

"It's me, Gascoigne, I promise. Your wife. Your friend." His everything, he'd declared often. 

Her hands slipped under the bandages and tugged them away. They were nearly shreds- they pulled down his face easily. 

Gascoigne's brown eyes were bloody and sunken in, their pupils blown out of shape and malformed. 

"Oh Gascoigne." She whispered, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. "My dear. Does it hurt?" 

He shuddered, leaning closer. His eyes flickered around as if reacting to something. 

"I can't… can't see you… just shadows and lights… please…" Slowly, as if she were made of china, Gascoigne pulled her close into a loose hug. He buried his face into her shoulder and breathed deeply with a whine. "Viola- Viola-!" 

Viola yelped as she was rapidly engulfed in his arms, tightly pulling her into him. He sobbed and shook as he called her name. 

She did not fight it, only whispered assurances and sweet nothings to soothe him as he cried. 

**Author's Note:**

> Funny how I wrote this Before Playing the Game Itself so i wasn't sure how the graveyard was laid out, and now I'm like trying to picture this layout i've described in fic and i'm just "that's not right" 
> 
> Anyways (: contributions of tears and curses are accepted in offering (:


End file.
